The Unseen Force
by BigMamaKat
Summary: Dean pops up in the house of a woman he doesn't know after a death he can't remember. How can they help each other out? •Story is a bit slow to get started but it's rated M for a reason! Dean/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own a single damn thing but the idea of the OC. I definitely do not hold rights to Supernatural. **

**This is Rated M for a reason, folks! It may be slow to start but it'll pick up.**

Dean opened his eyes. He was here again. Where ever _here_ was.

His eyelids felt heavy as he observed the scene before him; a woman, cleaning her kitchen. Such a simple task yet he couldn't help but watch it with intensity, as if determined to memorize each movement.

He should have been analyzing his surroundings, finding out who's the wizard behind the curtain, and making a plan. Thinking and screaming his way out of this. Yet her technique was so hypnotizing he couldn't manage a thought. Her energy was so focused and tranquil it washed over him til he was floating away with it, unable to say a word.

Simply a woman cleaning her kitchen.

First the dishes, followed by the counter tops, the stove top, the exterior of the refrigerator, the floors, the window.. She rearranged the potted herbs on the counter as an extra measure, gently removing the dead leaves as she went.

Her previous meditative state began to dissolve as her thoughts began to stir into a rather -judging by the sudden scowl- upsetting mess. Dean mirrored this scowl before fading out, leaving the quite unaware woman alone with her thoughts, rubbing her arms for warmth against the sudden frigid breeze..

It felt like eternity before Dean managed to open his eyes again. This time he had a chance to observe his surroundings. A one bedroom apartment, small, cozy, clean. No signs of sulphur, no hex bags, nothing weird.  
From the look of her apartment, this woman was some kind of new age hippie and there were parts of her home full of smells that perplexed Dean and drove his senses wild like never before.

Which was saying something, considering he was dead.

Dean was a ghost. He couldn't remember how he died, saying no to a reaper, or how in the hell he got to this womans home.

He tried focusing all his energy on knocking over a vase but could do nothing but fly right through it. Whatever had happened to him must have been recent, he concluded. _I barely have enough ghost juice to stay in a room longer than two minutes._

He turned around and jumped when he realized he wasn't alone in the room. Laughing at himself, he took a step closer to this woman sitting cross legged on the floor. _She's meditating,_ he realized. _Great, Im stuck with a hippie freak_. But as he took another step towards her his body was wracked with a huge involuntary shudder that made his eyes roll back in his head. He jumped back in shock, his body pulsating slightly. After a moment he reached out his hand slowly, cringing as it came into contact with whatever the hell kind of forcefield was emanating from this woman. The longer he held out his hand the more his body seemed to vibrate. He pulled back, the sensation too much to handle, backing up just a touch too fast effectively knocking over the vase and smashing it into pieces.

The womans shocked scream was the last thing he heard before fading out.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had no idea how long this had been going on for. He seemed to pop in and out at such strange times, the length of each varying drastically. Had it been a day? Had it been a week? A month? Every moment he came back into focus it was so brief and into such a mundane activity that he hardly took notice of this woman that seemed to be the centre of his ghostly existence.

_What kind of a life does this woman have? _Dean thought critically. _Every time I see her she's either cleaning her apartment, folding laundry, or doing that meditating crap. Is this all she ever does? And does she own nothing besides freakin' YOGA PANTS? Hot but, I mean, c'mon!_

But as the moments came and went, these days, weeks, months - _Feeling like a damned eternity! _Dean thought. The more they went on, the more he stopped to absorb and appreciate his surroundings. A normal routine in a normal life that he never had. Washing her very own dishes at the end of the day, putting them away in her very own kitchen, always having clean clothes with not a single one torn or blood stained. In one of these latest moments he began to study every detail of this woman.

She had wild, thick, dark hair that flowed just to the small of her back. She was at least an inch shorter than he was and seemed to be about half the size. She had small tattoos here and there but he could never get close enough to see just what they were. For some odd reason, one Dean had yet to figure out, there was something about this woman that charged him. She wasn't a witch, as far a he could tell. Didn't seem to be anything other than an ordinary, boring homo sapien. So what was it about her that kept him so far off?

After the experience with the vase he did a little experimenting. Whatever was there would charge up his batteries but each power trip would suffice for nothing more than a menial task.

_Lets see if I got this.. I touch it while she's meditating, I can chuck a plate across the room. I touch it while she's cleaning, I can make something spin.. How the hell do I get her to see me? More importantly, how the hell do I get out of here?! Do I need to touch her?_

He kept trying to push further through this force to get to the woman yet whatever this was did a damn good job of keeping him at bay. Every step closer was one hell of a fight. _Like trying to topple an elephant with your pinky, _thought Dean. The moment he took another step towards her, out went the lights.

When they came back on it took him a moment to get his bearings. The whole place was dark with a candle scattered here and there. It was so dark it wasn't until he heard the moans and the heavy pants coming from the opposite end of the room that he realized he was in her bedroom, and she was not alone.

Slowly his eyes began to focus on the figures before him.

_I almost feel pervy. I mean.. this isn't pervy, right? I'm freakin' dead, for crying out loud! I should at least enjoy the little things.._

The woman and her date grunted and groaned as they shifted their position. She was below him, arched to the side, one knee to her chest, the other leg stretched out. Her date was thrusting furiously letting out a sound that resembled a tea kettle about to boil over, a sound which had Dean almost in tears. The sounds coming from his mystery woman, strained and obviously an act. And suddenly it was over just as quickly as it had started. As Dean spouted out commentary and jousts at the mans performance he almost missed the hurried farewell conversation. However, he didn't miss the womans cloaked frustration after the obviously not mutually satisfying experience.

She stayed still, laying back with her arms crossed and resting on her forehead, not moving a muscle until she heard the click of her front door echo and die down.

Slowly she moved her hands down her body, caressing her breasts, gripping her hips, scratching down her inner thighs, until her fingers walked their way to her centre. She slipped one, two fingers inside her still so disappointingly slick self rubbing back up to stroke that wonderful bud, that little bundle of nerves responsible for such a massive explosion inside her body.

As she touched herself she let images float through her mind of all the ways she wished the night had gone. She settled on an image of a shadowed man with a strong, thick body touching her with his rough and calloused hands. Slowly entering her and riding her with strong thrusts as he playing with her clit with his thumb and she sucked longingly on the fingers of his other hand. She imagined an impassioned bite on her neck, on her shoulder, a fierce suck on her breast, on her mouth. She imagined him all over her body, taking her, ravaging her, claiming her as she so needed and longed to be claimed.

As she imagined and grew closer and closer to her climax, her legs fell wide to each side as she lay writhing on the bed. Open and inviting. Enticing.

As Dean watched, marvelling at just the amount of arousal a ghost can feel, he felt a pull. A pull just as powerful as the force that had been keeping him so far at bay. It was pulling him in, begging him to come closer, a now or never ultimatum.

Before he knew it he was kneeling beside her at the edge of the bed, so close to this woman that was so close to release. Reaching out to her, he hesitated.. _I'm a ghost, right? What harm could it do? I need any opportunity I can get to try this, it's not my fault I'm the luckiest bastard in the universe._

His hand followed through, resting firmly on her lower abdomen just above her own sweetly working hand. He felt a spread of warmth from his hand throughout his whole body just as her release hit her. A cry rang out as her hips bucked, riding out the remainder of her climax. A shudder and a shake wracked her body here and there as she slowly came down. As the last of it slowly faded away she worked her eyes open.

Her sigh died on her lips and the woman froze, her eyes resting on Dean.


End file.
